


Empty to Full

by GuineapigQueen



Series: 200 Followers Requests [4]
Category: South Park
Genre: Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 20:58:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18836653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuineapigQueen/pseuds/GuineapigQueen
Summary: Fill for Flollu on tumblr: I want chubs. Creek chubs. I don't care what the plot is I just want chubs. Fluff is always good.There a bit of angst to begin with, but stay with me! It gets fluffier."It was fall the first time Craig felt the bones of him. Flecks of orange in the air and a chill in the wind, people wrapping their freezing hands around coffee cups and breath leaving your lungs in a mist in the mornings."





	Empty to Full

It was fall the first time Craig felt the bones of him. Flecks of orange in the air and a chill in the wind, people wrapping their freezing hands around coffee cups and breath leaving your lungs in a mist in the mornings. It wasn’t that they hadn’t touched before, Craig knew he had knobbly knees, that his collarbones poked out and he’d felt the ridges of his spine before. Ran his hands along the mountain ranges of his vertebra in tender moments, hugs, makeouts or even just a steady hand to guide. 

 

But the first time, in the back of Craig’s beat up second hand car, Tweek’s angles hitting against the seats and the window frame. Craig felt like he might snap him if pushed too hard; it’s okay, he liked to be on the bottom anyway. The windows were all fogged up, and leaves crunched under their feet when they were done. Craig knew he loved him, but he also saw how bad it had gotten. He knew he never wanted to see those bones again, he never wanted to know the ridges and the angles. He wanted them to disappear, but he wanted Tweek to reappear from them. To trade empty with full, sick to healthy, alone to together. 

 

Tweek didn’t have an eating disorder like everyone thought he did. People talked behind his back a lot about it, but it was deeper than that. Track marks of neglect completed his entire being, lasting much longer than bruises and cuts. 

 

Craig helped him get off the coffee, the meth, from the side of a hospital bed. From a dingy, fragile plastic chair that had seen more heartbreak and tragedy that Craig could even try to imagine. Tweek did all the hard work, but Craig never wavered. He never left, even though people had told him he should. His own Mom had quietly suggested it - that maybe getting out of the relationship might be what’s best for Craig. Nobody wants to be committed to a drug addict so young. Craig knew they wanted more for him.

 

Tweek was never going to be entirely drug free; he had to be on antipsychotics - for life. They couldn’t say if it was the meth that addled his brain, or the trauma from all the childhood abuse or if maybe he was always going to be this severely mentally ill. Nobody could say, but the antipsychotics were here to stay. 

 

He was drugged up to the gills when he first got out, all he could do was sleep. He barely ate at first, barely spoke and rarely interacted. He curled cocooned under the blankets barely able to lift his heavy eyelids. Craig was truly scared that his Tweek was never going to come back; trapped inside this zombie of a person for all eternity. He resigned himself to caring for Tweek anyway: if Tweek had permanently injured himself physically, Craig wouldn’t leave him, so he stayed even if his brain was broken. They’re not married but things like  _ through sickness and health  _ ran through his head. He waited anyway, and slowly but surely, bits and pieces of Tweek began to resurface. He got there.

 

It was Tweek’s body that became fuller first; his eyes were still desperately empty. He communicated in monosyllables and was only awake for a few hours a day. Mostly he just said “thank you,” and that was enough for Craig. It was the drugs, combined with the inactivity and an appetite reignited that meant Craig got his wish. The bones of him were disappearing like islands in an overflowing sea. Not a natural disaster for Craig, but a time of celebration because Tweek was beginning to look healthy again, even if he was still sort of a zombie. 

 

Tweek himself slowly began to come back, bits here and there peeking through. Sometimes Tweek would hold a brief conversation, or he’d choose to stay awake and be with Craig instead. Craig was just happy to see him again, even if it was only in snippets. But slowly, the snippets began to get longer and longer until Tweek was more himself than not. His eyes were no longer devoid of meaning; they were full, bright and hopeful. All of a sudden, he had a future. 

 

That was two years ago now, and Craig knows that Tweek might not stay clean forever but they’re happy now. Now is what matters. 

 

Now, Tweek is feeling like Craig did in high school. Craig started on antidepressants young, his mom knowing the signs and getting him help at just fifteen. Tweek didn’t get that help, not until now. The antidepressants worked and Craig had been on them, with adjustments, ever since. They meant that teenage Craig had gained weight, and he’d pretty much resigned himself to being on the chubby side as an adult. It was worth it really, being unwell was much worse. But now it’s Tweek's turn, and the difference is a bit more dramatic, seeing as Tweek was bones beforehand. Craig likes it because he isn’t just filled, he’s pudgy. He’s soft and round and wonderful; Craig adores this, especially when the clatter of bones used to worry him so much. 

 

Tweek himself is unsure though. He hasn’t said anything yet, but Craig can tell. He sees the way Tweek pinches the fat on his stomach or the way he tries to hide behind his clothes. Craig tries his best to fill that void, to show Tweek he adores the changes. Tweek is finding a whole new identity, not just physically but in the sense that some of the things he thought were his personality were actually pathological. He doesn’t shake or twitch now that he’s not on meth, his speech is slower and much clearer. When he was on meth his brain was in fast forward, unbearably so. With the first overmedicated dose of his antipsychotics, his brain was painfully slow; he is finding his ideal playback speed slowly as he finds his right dose. 

 

“Am I boring?” He asks Craig, to which Craig doesn’t know how to reply. Because Craig is very, very boring and Tweek seems to like him just fine. Craig likes staying home and blanket forts and cuddling. He’s vanilla and average, he’s not looking for excitement or extremes.

 

“What do you mean by that?” Is Craig’s reply.

 

“Like, now I’m all tranquilised.” he says, this is his way of referring to the sedatives. 

 

“Well I’m not bored,” Craig shrugs. If anything, Tweek is the interesting one in this relationship. 

 

“It’s just, did all those erratic crazy things I used to do… did they make me  _ -ah-  _ interesting?” Tweek asks in a small voice, fragile and quiet. Like when he first came home from the hospital. 

 

“No, if anything they made things more difficult. And look, it’s distressing seeing your partner unwell, Tweek. Seeing you well makes my heart full.” Craig says, beckoning his lover closer. He wraps his arms around Tweek and is so thankful that there is something to squeeze, that he isn’t all creaking bones. Tweek wraps his own arms around Craig’s waist and rests his head on Craig’s shoulder, almost like they are slow dancing. 

 

“It’s just, I’m tired all the time and like, I never want to go out… and I’m fat now… I just don’t see what I’m bringing to the  _ -nnn-  _ table here?”

 

“Uh I’m not exactly skinny here myself?” Craig points out.

 

“I’m bigger than you,” Tweek counteracts miserably. He snuggles further into the embrace, letting Craig know he clearly feels safe enough to have this conversation.

 

“It’s not a competition,” Craig reminds him. “I love you like this.”

 

“I just… I don’t want you to stay with me out of some kind of obligation,” he sighs. “I know I’m probably gonna be on these meds forever and I’m probably gonna have relapses with my mental health at the very least… maybe worse…” he shudders as he trails off. Craig pulls him in tighter.

 

“We don’t need to worry about stuff that hasn’t happened yet, babe,” Craig assures, rubbing a hand comfortingly along Tweeks back. “I love you, but helping you get through illness isn’t an obligation to me. It’s something I wanted to see you through, and I want to spend my life with you - regardless.” 

 

“Craig…” Tweek replies. Craig doesn’t have to see his eyes to know they are welling. He can hear all the emotions Tweek is feeling all crammed into that one word. He supposes that’s what happens when you are together for so long. 

 

Tweek only breaks their embrace so that he can press a kiss to Craig’s lips. Kissing Tweek is one of those things that Craig thinks will never grow old for him. His belly flutters with butterflies in all the same ways it used to when they were teens. 

 

“When you kiss me like that, I feel the same as I always have,” Craig tells him. “So if you’re worried that you’ve somehow changed too much, you haven’t. You’re still my Tweek and you still give me fireworks every time, okay, babe?”

 

Tweek nods, slowly. He bites his lip before deciding to speak; “I’m just not used to this…” he says, touching his stomach. “I used to be the skinniest kid in our grade at school.”

 

“Tweek, I love you, but you were emaciated. It was an unhealthy kind of skinny,” Craig says “and uh, I love you no matter what… but I prefer this,” he says, a little embarrassed.

 

“You prefer this?” Tweek asks, stunned. “Why?”

 

“Because before, you looked sick, babe. I was worried I might break you,” Craig admits. “Seeing you healthy and happy is just, incredible for me.”

 

“I mean, I guess I’m enjoying my life more now…” Tweek says. “I don’t want to go back to how I was… I wasn’t happy.”

 

Craig reaches for Tweeks hands and threads their fingers together. He holds on tight, like he knows he will forever. Even if Tweek has to go back to being a zombie again, Craig will never let go, not for anything.

 

“I prefer you happy, always,” Craig insists. “I mean, I love your body but it’s just a vessel for your soul, you know?” 

 

“That’s probably the deepest thing you’ve ever said,” Tweek says with a short laugh, “but thank you.  _ -Gah-  _ I love you so, so much.”

 

“I can be deep when I want to.” Craig says with a frown, but he pulls Tweek in close for another hug anyway. “I think you know I adore you.”

 

“Yeah,” Tweek says, nodding. “Yeah I do, I just, my head sometimes gets caught up in my  _ -ah-  _ bullshit sometimes.”

 

“I know,” Craig replies with a sad smile, “but I’ll tell you the truth, I promise.”

 

Craig knows that he likes Tweek soft, he likes a Tweek who he can cuddle and squeeze and whose smile truly meets his eyes. Craig never, ever wants to see the bones of him again. He loves the way he has filled like an ocean, the islands of his bones underwater. Craig will do whatever he can to keep the ocean flowing, to keep his Tweek here and afloat. 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is blesspastacraig if you wanna be friends :)


End file.
